


Alternate End to His Last Vow

by Wynter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1889664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynter/pseuds/Wynter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the title says</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternate End to His Last Vow

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at titles :)

When John saw Mycroft standing in front of his door, for the first time since he knew the man he didn't want to shut the door in his face.

"Where is he? What's going to happen to him?" He asked, knowing he didn't have to explain.

"Let's go inside." Mycroft suggested coolly. "Am I right in thinking that your wife is away?"

"She's having lunch and an afternoon out with some friends. But you probably knew that already." John said as he stood aside. "What's going on with Sherlock?"

Mycroft just sat down in a chair in silence. Like always he liked to have that royal air about him.

"Don't play games. Please, just not now." John said almost begging.

"Very well" Mycroft sighed. "He is being detained in a high end penal facility at the moment."

"Okay, what's next?"

"I was able to negotiate his punishment somewhat. He did kill Magnussen in front of numerous witnesses, there is only so much I could do in his case." Mycroft paused but he continued before John had a chance to ask again. "He is going to work for MI6. Also he is essentially going to be exiled."

"Jesus Christ..." John gasped. This was... it felt like Sherlock just returned from the dead and now he was loosing him again.

"On Sunday a jet departs from a private airfield with Sherlock on board to take him to Eastern Europe. That is the last time you will see my brother if you choose to say goodbye to him."

At first John couldn't speak, hell, he couldn't even breathe. But than slowly the fog cleared in his head. Something about that last sentence wasn't right. With anyone else it would have been plain and simple: If you want to say goodbye you can see him for one last time to do so. But not with Mycroft.

"What if I choose not to? Say goodbye, that is." He asked.

Mycroft watched him for a few moments. It was one of those rare moments when he truly saw a resemblance between the brothers. Mycroft scrutiny was just as intense as Sherlock's. The practice he had with Sherlock made it easier not to squirm under the weight of it.

"Than you choose to say goodbye to everything else you know."

"Excuse me?"

"The jet taking my brother to Eastern Europe will never reach the continent. It will suffer an unfortunate accident. After reporting a serious malfunction it will explode over the ocean." Mycroft allowed John a minute to take this in. "I am now giving you a choice you should have been given three years ago. You can either board that plane with him or stay behind on the tarmac watching him leave for good."

"You can't be serious." John said disbelieving but he already knew that he was.

"I know it's not an easy decision to make and I must warn you, your decision is final. This time there will be no miraculous return. Sherlock will never walk the streets of London again."

"Where?" John asked hoarsely. No matter how much he wanted to jump into another adventure with Sherlock he had Mary and the baby now. He couldn't leave them behind, and he knew he couldn't take them with him.

"I can't tell you." Mycroft said softly.

"Will he be safe?"

"Safe as he ever chooses to be."

John knew he should thank Mycroft for the offer and decline, but he couldn't form the words.

"Perhaps this will help you make your final decision." Mycroft said and handed him a folder with the letters 'A G R A'. written on them in black marker.

"Did Sherlock take the pedrive?" John asked seriously.

"No. Not to my knowledge. Nor did he ever see the contents of this folder."

"Than how?"

"Your wife shot my brother, very nearly killing him. I did my own research." Mycroft answered than stood, and handed John another piece of paper. "The place and time of departure. Make your choice and arrive accordingly. I will let myself out." With that he started to walk out but paused at the door. "You can burn that folder like you burned the pendrive but I'd advise you didn't. It will be too late to regret your uninformed decision when you learn at least some of the contents of it later in another way."

With that Mycroft walked out and closed the door behind himself.

John sat there staring at the black letters for a long time. He forgave his wife for lying, for being what she was in the past and for shooting Sherlock. Mycroft knew that. What could be in the folder that made Mycroft believe that after everything he would leave Mary and their daughter and go with Sherlock God knows where.

Once John choose ignorance for his own peace of mind. This time he couldn't. Finally he opened the folder.

At the end it wasn't her connection to Moriarty or the numerous people she killed. No. It was one little piece of paper tucked at the very end of the folder.

Mary arrived home late at night. She didn't notice the folder lying on the coffee table, but she did see John sitting in his chair, a suitcase next to him. His face was hard, and he was holding a folded piece of paper.

"Are you going somewhere?" She asked confused.

"Whose is it?" John asked coldly.

"Whose what is?" Mary asked.

"Don't play stupid. The baby, Mary. Whose is it?" John asked angrily. His cold composure wavering.

"Yours of course." Mary said, and it was a testament to how good a liar she was that John almost believed her.

"Don't lie to me!" John stood, and threw the paper at Mary. It didn't reach her, it fell harmlessly to the floor. John saw her hand shake as she reached for it.

"I'm asking for the last time. Whose baby is it?"

"I'm sorry. It only happened once... I..." Mary tried.

"Whose?" John insisted.

"David's" Mary said softly.

John nodded. He grabbed his suitcase and started to walk towards the door.

"John, please... I'm sorry..." Mary grabbed his arm and pleaded. She looked like she was about to cry. John wondered if the tears in her eyes were real.

"Let go of me." he growled. He'd never hit her, though God knows she deserved it, but he had to hold himself back from physically pushing her away.

"I don't know you. I have no idea who you are. And I'm not talking about who you were before we met because that... that I know in every gruesome detail. You keep lying to me ever since we met. You almost killed the most important man in my life and I forgave you. I forgave all that because I though I knew the woman you were trying to be. I guess I was wrong. I will come back for the rest of my stuff on Monday, don't be here in the afternoon." With that John pulled away his arm and walked out of the apartment.

John suspected Mycroft wouldn't be surprised when he showed up on the tarmac with a suitcase on Sunday.

He was right.


End file.
